Make a cushion from two napkins

Warning! If you object to seeing the cushion pad through the gaps between the ribbons, this pattern is not for you!
Take a couple of green* linen** napkins. (Note: ironing the napkins would make for a better photo, but the creases drop out with use.)
Sew together, right sides facing, around three sides. Stuff in cushion pad. Sew on three pairs of red* ribbon lengths along the open side. Tie each pair into a double knot to close cushion.

*colour choices are, of course, up to you
** fabric choices are also, of course, up to you

Five-minute fashion DIY: turn a scarf into a snood

Snoods are having a stint in the fashion spotlight; they’re e-v-e-r-y-w-h-e-r-e. And with good reason. They’re very cosy, they can double up as headgear (just pull a loop of the snood up over the back of your head), and versatile: wear one in a long loop like a giant necklace, or twist round and round your neck for maximum heat retention. And once your snood is on, it stays put, no constantly flipping the ends back over your shoulder. And you can join in with this trend in five minutes flat.

How to turn a scarf into a snood
All you need is an old scarf, hand-knitted, machine-knitted, crocheted or fabric. To transform your scarf into a snood, all you need to do is to join the ends together to form a loop. If your scarf is knitted or crocheted, you’ll ned some yarn in the same colour (or contrasting colour if you prefer). Remove any tassels or fringing first. With a large-eyed needle, stitch the two ends of the scarf together.
If you don’t have an old scarf you want to use, knit your own super-simple snood: cast on enough stitches for your desired scarf width. Knit until scarf is long enough. Knit entirely in garter stitch, or try knitting and purling alternative rows, for stocking stitch. You can also try ‘knit one, purl one’ for a ribbed effect, or ‘knit two, purl two’ for a more defined rib. Stitch the ends together with the same yarn to form a loop.

Did you know? The word ‘snood’ used to refer to a type of hairnet, worn on the back of the head to hold the hair.

This blog first appeared on Allaboutyou.com, where I used to work. It was a great website, with lots of top-quality craft content, managed by me. Unfortunately, it was closed in January 2015.

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Colourful contrast; colourful language

I've tried cross-stitch about twice in the past, not too impressively. So this time, I decided to use more strands of the thread. As my design was words, I googled 'cross stitch pattern generator' - there are loads of results. You type in the text you want, choose your font, print and stitch!
I did a little of mine on the train home, getting some curious glances. One woman definitely thinking, 'no, she's not actually sewing the word "fuck", is she?' To which I would say: in the case of clothes moths, the destructive little monsters, it's entirely appropriate!
I love the contrast between the old-fashioned charm of a homemade lavender bag, decorated with 'colourful' language.
The fabric bag is made from offcuts of a skirt I made in the summer. The lavender is from our allotment, augmented with a couple of pieces of cotton wool dripped with lavender oil. I made this one for a friend's birthday, and another has asked for one too. And my other half fancies one for his half of the wardrobe. Lots more cross-stitch on the commute then...

Bye bye Bernina...

Today was a sad day: I said goodbye to the sewing machine I've had for over half my life. It was a Bernina model from the 50s or 60s, which I inherited when I moved into the flat of some friends. Back then I had been traumatised about using a sewing machine by our domestic science teacher, who regularly made pupils cry. Whatever day of the week we had needlework, I had a migraine that evening!

My then boyfriend, luckily, hadn't been similarly traumatised, knew how to use a machine, and taught me. And until I got my lovely new machine, as a Christmas present from my current partner, everything I've ever sewn was made on my old Bernina. It was quite limited; despite knobs to the contrary, it could only sew forwards in a straight line. It weighed a ton too. But how many things do you own for half your life?

There I was, embroidering in the V&A...

At the weekend I went to the Power of Making exhibition at the Victoria and Albert Museum. You've got plenty of time to see it: it finishes on January 2 2012.
Guest curator Daniel Charny defines the urge to make things like this: "For many people, making is critical for survival. For others, it is a chosen vocation: a way of thinking, inventing and innovating. And for some it is simply a delight to be able to shape a material and say ‘I made that’. The power of making is that it fulfils each of these human needs and desires."
The last one does it for me: the simple act of creating something that didn't exist before.

Exhibits include a gorilla hand-twisted from wire coat-hangers, a crocheted bear (life size) and a ceramic eye patch - lots of fascinating things to gaze upon...

Ele Carpenter was hosting an Embroidered Digital Commons workshop. She's two-thirds of the way through this project - a year to go! The project's aim is to 'stitch a concise lexicon of/for the digital commons. The term being embroidered, in short phrases, at the V&A was 'vector'. As Ele explains: "The term 'Vector' seems appropriate for an exhibition where the vectors of objects and ideas connect and touch, porting through different sites and zones."
I took over a hoop with the last phrase of the paragraph, which had been written on the fabric by a young boy earlier. He'd only managed to stitch the first two words, so I finished it off for him. Quite a surreal experience, feeling like a museum exhibit myself, as visitors paused to watch us at work. It was a bit of a rush job towards the end...

Nice Iceland

One of the (many, many) wonderful things about Iceland is the attitude to traditional crafts like knitting (ordinary people going about their ordinary everyday business wearing the traditional Icelandic jumper, or lopapeysa), and sewing: check this pic of a woman embroidering on the 5,000-kronur note

I also saw a couple of examples of yarn art in Reykjavik (and if anyone speaks Icelandic or knows what they mean, I'd be grateful for a translation/explanation)



If you fancy knitting your own lopapeysa, you can find free patterns at the Nordic Store. And if you're off to Iceland, one of the best places to buy one is the Handknitting Association of Iceland, with a shop in the street Skólavörðustígur in Reykjavik ("scowl-a-fore-thust-ee-goor"). There are lots of other funky shops selling handmade stuff on this street, and in Laugavegur round the corner

Baking and taking cake

On Friday I'm finally making it to an outdoor film screening. As well as an unfeasibly large pile of warm clothes, I'm baking and taking a blackberry crumble cake to enjoy with my oldest friend and her daughters. Like many of my baking sessions, this will involve going a bit freestyle. Although I haven't been making cakes for very long, I'm confident enough in my cooking to alter recipes to suit me.
The recipe I used is based on one from Hedgewizard's diary blog. I think I've made it before with apples as described, but now it's customised. Now I just have to avoid eating it before Friday...

How to make elderflower champagne - free fizz!

If you like elderflower cordial, you'll love elderflower 'champagne'. What's not to love: it's (almost) free fizz - and I'm a big fizz fan.

How to make elderflower champagne 
Pick five or six elderflower heads, preferably on a sunny day. Choose elder trees that aren't on a busy road, and avoid flowers lower down that may be contaminated by the urine of dogs, foxes, or even humans... Pick off any insects etc before using. Don't run the flowers under the tap or you'll wash the natural yeasts off.
Pour 20 litres of cold water into a plastic bucket of at least 25 litres capacity. Stir in 1kg of ordinary sugar until dissolved. Drop in the flower heads and stir to submerge. Add the zest and juice of two lemons and 4tbsp white wine vinegar. Stir to mix, then lay a clean teatowel over the bucket and leave for 24 hrs, stirring occasionally.
After 24 hours, pour the liquid through a sieve to remove the detritus, then pour though a funnel into a collection of two-litre plastic bottles (bought for 17p each, full of water, from a well-known supermarket). Leave the bottles for at least two weeks. They'll become more rigid as the fermenting causes carbon dioxide to build up, and you can unscrew the top a little (carefully!) to release some of the pressure.
After two weeks you can drink it, and it'll be around 3% alcohol, depending on how your fermentation went. It slips down very easily, and is particularly delicious with gin - probably best not to drive to be on the safe side...

Stone love

I take after my dad in that I love to interfere with the natural positions of stones, piling them up, standing them on end, balancing them on top of each other, or other items.
I'd love to call it 'land art' but I think that might be a little grand for my efforts.
I'm a big fan of Andy Goldsworthy, and I like the idea that you're changing the landscape for someone else to discover.

Left: stone circle by the river near Machynlleth, Wales. We stayed in a yurt here and it was a magical trip: close to nature, mindblowing reiki and peace and quiet.

Stone circle of a different kind on the beach in Southwold, Suffolk. Mr MI! was fishing and I amused myself. (I like to go fishing but not that day.)

Stone and wood combined on the beach in Rhodes, Greece. From this angle, it resembled a woman looking out to sea

Customise a T-shirt: ribbon collar and cuffs

I'll come clean: I love ribbon. I hoard it. I spend lunchtimes gazingat it in VV Rouleaux, Liberty and MacCulloch & Wallis. And now and then, I actually make something with it. I took a basic navy V-neck T-shirt from Uniqlo, and sewed on some toning striped ribbon from Jane Means around the cuffs and the collar. I started sewing on the ribbon at work, carried on with it on the train home, and finished it off at home. The T-shirt has been uplifted into a whole new fashion class and best of all, it's unique.

We've got an allotment!

After just two years on the waiting list, we've got half a plot - shared with one of our friendly neighbours, who's also a new plot tenant.
We've had a quick peek over the fence (haven't got the keys yet) and it's hideously weedy and overgrown as you'd expect, but there are a couple of artichokes, two rose bushes and a massive lavender plant, as well as a bean frame and lots of odd pots and bit of wood and metal poles lying around. This is going to take some time...
Although I may mention allotment issues on here now and then, it's not going to become an allotment blog; there are already loads of people who do it far better than I could.